


Don't Lick Your Wounds (Unless You Care To Taste The Sting A Second Time)

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Painplay, Roughness, S&M, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tatiana had gotten the rise out of him that she'd wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Lick Your Wounds (Unless You Care To Taste The Sting A Second Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MMOM](http://mmom.livejournal.com/). Title from the quote by Rechille E. Goodrich.

Tatiana traced the bruises on her jaw, wishing they were darker, that he’d have pressed harder into her flesh. This petty discolouration she could cover too easily, nobody would think to ask her where it came from. 

But she would know, at least. And so would he, next time she saw him, when she would tilt her head just right that he’d remember how close he’d pulled her and how good she felt in his hand.

She closed her eyes, tightening her hand around her jaw as she stroked over her breasts, teasing her nipple for a moment as lightly but as surely as she teased him. Cruelly, perhaps, as she drew her hand lower, abandoning them when they needed her touch so badly. But she had no mercy for such small agonies. She would push and push at where the skin was thinnest and dig her fingers in between bones, get that little yelp of pain that felt so good and yet would turn him defensive and dark eyed at the same time, taking her in his strong hands to crush and to kill and to fuck because neither of them knew which it was they liked better anymore.

She saw exactly how it would be, as she pinched and pulled at the lips of her cunt, her fingers painfully tight around her jaw, the wrong way round. A thumb where there should be four fingers. He’d fuck her from behind, holding her jaw closed so she would not make a sound, so he could pretend she was that Irish flower of a wife of his and she’d bite at his hand, Russian curses falling from her lips so he could not forget who it was he was inside.

Biting at the soft pad of her thumb, she released her jaw, pushing her fingers past her clit to her entrance, forcing her way inside, crying out at the sharp pain and the flood of pleasure it brought her, even though she was nowhere near anything that should be pleasurable. She fucked herself hard with her fingers, just needing to feel what it would be like to take his cock, as much uncaring for her orgasm as she considered he would be, taking pleasure from herself rather than giving it. Her nails scratched hard enough to bleed down her neck and her chest, her nipple caught in her fingers, squeezed tight between them. Ignoring her own cries, she muffled them with her hand as she came, almost against her will, a runaway train on tracks that she wished would go on forever but alas, they ran out and she screeched and crashed to a deathly stop, shivering and barely breathing in the wreckage that had once been her pride.

That he would ruin her was a gamble that she was willing to take. That she would ruin him was the true wager she was making.

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


End file.
